Files of your life

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in a
room. There were no distinguishing features save for the onewall
covered with small indexcard files. They were like the ones in
libraries that list titles byauthor or subject in alphabetical order.
But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew
near the wall of files, the first to catch myattention was one that
read "People I Have Liked". I opened it and began flipping through the
cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the
names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crudecatalog system for
my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and
small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and
curiosity,coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly
opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet
memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would
look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked"Friends I Have
Betrayed". The titles ranged from the mundane to the outrightweird.
"Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have Told","Comfort I Have Given","Jokes
I Have Laughed At". Some were almost hilarious in their exactness:
"Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at:
"Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My
Breath at My Parents". I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than
I hoped.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could
it be possible that I had the time in my 30 years to write each of
these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed
thistruth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my
signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To", I
realized the files grew tocontain their contents. The cards were
packed tightly, and yet after twoor three yards, I hadn't found the
end of the file.I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of
music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file
represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run
through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to
test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed
content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No
one must eversee these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have
to destroy them!" In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size
didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burnthe cards. But as I took
itat one end and began pounding it on the floor,I could not dislodge a
single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find
itas strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly
helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against
the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.
The title bore "People that I Have Taught AboutAllah". The handle was
brighter than those around it, newer, almostunused. I pulled on its
handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my
hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came.I began to weep. Sobs sodeep that the hurt
started in my stomach and shook through me. Ifell on my knees and
cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.
The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must
ever, ever know of this room.
I must lock it up and hide the key.

13 hadith found in ' Prostration During Recital of Quran ' of SahihBukhari.

174
Narrated Abu Huraira: On Fridays the Prophet used to recite AlfLam Mim
Tanzil-As-Sajda (in the first Raka) and Halata'alal-lnsani i.e.
Suratad-Dahr (LXXVI) (in the second Raka), in the Fajr prayer.
175
Narrated Ibn Abbas: The prostration of Sad is not a compulsory one
butI saw the Prophet prostrating while reciting it.
176
Narrated 'Abdullah bin Masud: The Prophet recited Surat-an-Najm (53)
and prostrated whilereciting it and all the people prostrated and a
man amongst the people took a handful of stones or earth and raised it
to his face and said, "This is sufficient for me." Later on I saw him
killed as a non-believer.
177
Narrated Ibn Abbas: The Prophet I prostrated while reciting An-Najm
and with him prostrated the Muslims, the pagans, the jinns, and all
human beings.
178
Narrated 'Ata' bin Yasar: I asked Zaid bin Thabit about prostration on
which he said that he had recited An-Najm before the Prophet, yet he
(the Prophet) had not performed a prostration.
179
Narrated Zaid bin Thabit: I recited An-Najm before the Prophet, yet he
did not perform a prostration.
180
Narrated Abu Salma: I saw Abu Huraira reciting Idha-Sama' un-Shaqqat
and he prostrated during its recitation. I asked Abu Huraira, "Didn't
I see you prostrating?" Abu Huraira said, "Had I not seen the Prophet
prostrating, I would not have prostrated."
181
Narrated Ibn Umar: When the Prophet recited a Sura that contained the
prostration he would prostrate and we would do the same and some of us
(because of the heavy rush) could not find a place for prostration.
182
Narrated Ibn 'Umar, When the Prophet recited Surat As-Sajda and we
were with him, he would prostrate and we also would prostrate with him
and some of us (because of the heavy rush) would not find a place (for
our foreheads) to prostrate on.

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And Allah Knows the Best!

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Published by :->
M NajimudeeN Bsc- INDIA

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Nasruddin Stories - The Second Banquet (retold by Nasruddin)

A banquet is a wonderful thing for those who attend, but for he or she
who is the guest of honor, it is a trial. All the attention is on you,
everyone hangs on your every word and move, and your mannersare under
close scrutiny.
O my beloveds, it befell upon me that I was invited to a second
banquet. This surprised me after the story of the first banquet was
told far and wide. Yet people are strange, and will admire that which
they do not understand.
So it was I was told a special carriage would be sent for me. I could
not abide being such a curiosity as the guest of honor is, but what
could I do? The carriage pulledup in front of my little home, and I
stepped out to meet my doom.
The coachman turned and looked at me."Where is Nasruddin?" he asked.
"I'm supposed to pick up the Great and Honorable Nasruddin, and bring
him to the banquet in gracious style."
"Oh, him," I replied. "He is almost ready." Then it struck me.
"However, mygood man, he has a quirk about which you may have heard."
"A quirk? What quirk? Heis a great man! He is much honored! He has no quirks!"
"Oh, we all have our quirks" I said. "His is benign. His humility is
sogreat that he does not wish to be seen while entering and exiting
the carriage. He wishes for you to avert your eyes atthese moments so
that he is not distressed by undue attention."
"Ah, is that all?" cried thecoachman. "I will oblige the great man, of
course.Just warn me before he makes his appearance."
"Here he comes now," I said, looking back over my shoulder. "Are your
eyes averted?"
"My eyes will not look upon the Great and Honorable Nasruddin if he
does not wish it!" he cried. He averted his eyes and covered his head
with his cloak. I walked to the carriage and opened the door."There
you are," I said. "Iwill sit up with the coachman." And with that I
slammed the carriage door, and climbed up with the coachman, who of
course had no idea who I was. He uncovered his head and we began the
trip to the banquet hall.
Along the way one of the wheels rolled into a considerable hole in the
road, and the carriage gave a mighty jolt. The coachman was much
concerned. He turned and addressed himself tothe door of the
carriage."Is the Great and Honorable Nasruddin in good order?" he
bellowed.
"I'll check," I said, and climbed down. I opened the door and looked
in."Everything okey dokey?" I asked. Then I slammed the door and
climbed back up. "All is well." I told the coachman.
"I was surprised at the familiar way in which you addressed the great
man," the coachman said. "It seemed a great liberty, most impolite."
"It would seem so to the uninformed, it is true," I replied. "But
Nasruddin and I are on very close terms." The coachman was satisfied
and we drove on our way.
We arrived at the banquet hall. There were many carriages and
palanquins, and guests dressed in gloriously colored garb. The
coachman began to bellow,"All avert your eyes..." but I put my hand on
his arm.
"Nasruddin's humility is so great, he would not want to draw notice in
this way. Let us wait for a lull in the crowd." When the crowd had
thinned a little, I instructed to coachman to avert his eyes.
"My eyes will not look upon the Great and Honorable Nasruddin if he
does not wish it!" he cried, and he averted hiseyes and covered his
head with his cloak. I opened the door of the carriage with great
ceremony, and said just loud enough for the coachman to hear, "We have
arrived, Nasruddin.You may disembark and make your way into the
banquet hall. The ushers will guide you. I myself will remain with the
carriage to keep the coachman company."
I waited for a few moments, then slammed the door and climbed back up
with the coachman. "Let us ride out to the river," I suggested. "It is
peacefulthere, and we can see the banquet hall, so we will know when
we are wanted again."
The coachman agreed it was a good plan, so we spent a quiet evening
bythe river, watching the sun set over the peacefulwater, and
listening to the night birds calling toeach other. We talked of this
and that, of the coachman's life, and hada very nice time. At last
things began to stir at the banquet hall. People poured out, and
carriages began to arrive. The coachman was concerned lest we be late.
"Nasruddin will want to wait until the others have left," I assured
him.Let us wait." So we did. When it was quiet at the banquet hall, we
rolled up to the door, and I dismounted. "Please avert your eyes," I
said to the coachman.
"My eyes will not look upon the Great and Honorable Nasruddin if he
does not wish it!" he cried, and he averted hiseyes and covered his
head with his cloak. I opened the carriage door with great ceremony.
"There you are, yes, it's alittle high, watch your step. Good man,
you're in. Settled? Comfy? Good." and I slammed the door. I climbed up
next to the coachman and we rolled back through the town to my little
home.
"The Great Nasruddin does you considerable honor to stay with you when
he could obviouslystay with the Caliph himself," said the coachman
when we had arrived.
"Ah, he is a strange man,that Nasruddin," I replied. "He does pretty
much what he wants. Now please, avert your eyes."
"My eyes will not look upon the Great and Honorable Nasruddin if he
does not wish it!" he cried, and he averted hiseyes and covered his
head with his cloak. For the final time I opened the carriage door
with great ceremony.
"Here we are, home at last," I said, and waited afew moments, then
slammed the carriage door. I opened my door and said,"Go right in,
I'll just say a word of thanksto the coachman," and slammed the door
of my house.
"I thank you for an enjoyable evening, my good friend," I said. "It
was a pleasure and an honor to spend the evening with such a courteous
and considerate soul. May the blessings of Allah be upon you and your
family."
"I thank you as well," replied the coachman. "I have seldom enjoyed
such a peaceful and contented evening. I only hope the Great Nasruddin
was satisfied with the service. I assureyou, I never even peeped at
him."
"I have it from his own mouth that he was fully satisfied. He commends
you in the highest terms,and wishes you good fortune always. He
particularly wanted me to tell you that he hopes that Allah will smile
on you all your days."
And we both returned toour homes well pleased with the evening, in
spite of the strange rumors that circulated for a while that the Great
and Honorable Nasruddin never showedhis face at his own banquet.

Nasruddin Stories - The First Banquet (retold by Nasruddin)

One day, it happened that someone said something to someone, who said
something to someone else, who somehow formed the impression I was an
important person. The result of this chain of folly was that I was
invited to be the guest of honor at a banquet.
I was puzzled but honored to be given such an invitation. At
theappointed day I presented myself at the door of the banquet hall.I
had walked all day in my usual simple garb to get to the city in which
the banquet was being held, and I suppose I could have used some
freshening up. At any rate, the guards at the door took one look at me
and barred the door.
"But I'm Nasruddin, the guest of honor!"
"Of course you are!" the guards laughed. One bent toward me and said,
"And I am the caliph himself!" At whichthey both roared with laughter.
Still chuckling, they said, "Go away, old man, and don't let us seeyou
here again!"
I obliged them with the first part of their request. The banquet hall
was located on the city square, and I recognized a friend's house on
the opposite side. I walked there and knocked. My friend answered.
"Nasruddin!" he embraced me and we gave each other warm greetings and
gratitude to Allah, glorious and merciful is He, for this meeting. I
came right to the point.
"Do you remember that red brocade coat you wanted to give me last
year?" I asked.
"Certainly! It still hangs in my closet, waiting for you. Are you
ready to receive it?"
"With gratitude," I replied. "Do you have other plans for it?"
"What do you mean, Nasruddin?" he asked.
"I just wondered if you would like the coat back after I have borrowed it?"
"Oh, no, Nasruddin! It is yours to keep and do with what you wish!"
"Just so, my friend. Thank you." I visited for a brief while, then
received the coat and put it on. I made my apologies and departed back
across the square, adorned with a dazzling brocade coat with gold
brade and colored stones lining the epaulets. The buttons were ivory,
the fastenings were jet black. All in all, I was a wonderful sight.
The guards bowed low at my approach, and ushered me into the banquet
hall. The table was richly laid, and all the guests were there.
Someone showed me to a seat at the head of the table, and
announced"The august, the wise, the true Nasruddin!" I sat, and
everyone else sat at the same moment.
They all watched expectantly, waiting to see what the guest of honor
would do. The first course was soup. When it was served, all eyes were
on me. I picked up my bowl of soup and stood, holding it high. Then I
poured the soup down the front of my coat.
The guests were astounded. A gasp arose so that the air was almost
sucked from the room. Then they broke into remonstrations and shouts.
"What are you doing! What are you thinking!"
When it was quiet enough so I could speak,I addressed my coat. "O
coat, I hope you have enjoyed that delicious soup. It is clear that it
is you who are welcome here, not I!"

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And Allah Knows the Best!

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Published by :->
M NajimudeeN Bsc- INDIA

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